VOID
A void in one’s memory is filled with more than the fear of not knowing; it swirls with the dread of what those missing memories might contain. When a young man wakens in a freezing car, his mind a complete blank, he embarks upon a journey that brings that very dread to the fore. Who is he? What has he done? Where does he belong? Why can he not remember? VOID: a psychological journey of discovery that forces the question: To what extent can our memories be trusted? Available as both paperback and ebook. |
Opening of Void
The sense of being in the wrong place, with absolutely no idea where the right place might be, is an unnerving feeling that destroys any chance of rational thought. Amid this confusion, my body refuses to hold onto the gasps of air that my lungs are desperately crying out for. My head swims through a lack of oxygen, and even as the suffocating voice in my head says calm down, breathe deeper, breathe more slowly, panic continues to rule for at least five minutes.
Eventually, feeling like a man who came close to drowning before being cast upon a foreign shore, I do manage to calm somewhat. I’ve literally just woken from sleep, and I’m sitting in the driver’s seat of a car. It’s freezing, and I fumble the keys from where they sit on the central console into the ignition. Start the engine. Turn the heat up to max and ramp the fan to full blast.
A coating of frost on the inside of the windscreen has not yet begun to clear, and the cold air blowing through the vents sends a shudder through my bones as it stirs the resident aroma of night-breath and flatulence. I realise at that moment the bigger question is not, where am I? It’s, who am I? Eventually the heat from the ticking engine kicks in and begins to lick the bottom of the ice-coated screen.
It’s punishingly cold. As yet, the engine’s heat is barely penetrating my skin, but I don’t believe any rise in temperature would remove the chill of fear that kicks my heart into a fresh flutter of renewed anxiety.
The sense of being in the wrong place, with absolutely no idea where the right place might be, is an unnerving feeling that destroys any chance of rational thought. Amid this confusion, my body refuses to hold onto the gasps of air that my lungs are desperately crying out for. My head swims through a lack of oxygen, and even as the suffocating voice in my head says calm down, breathe deeper, breathe more slowly, panic continues to rule for at least five minutes.
Eventually, feeling like a man who came close to drowning before being cast upon a foreign shore, I do manage to calm somewhat. I’ve literally just woken from sleep, and I’m sitting in the driver’s seat of a car. It’s freezing, and I fumble the keys from where they sit on the central console into the ignition. Start the engine. Turn the heat up to max and ramp the fan to full blast.
A coating of frost on the inside of the windscreen has not yet begun to clear, and the cold air blowing through the vents sends a shudder through my bones as it stirs the resident aroma of night-breath and flatulence. I realise at that moment the bigger question is not, where am I? It’s, who am I? Eventually the heat from the ticking engine kicks in and begins to lick the bottom of the ice-coated screen.
It’s punishingly cold. As yet, the engine’s heat is barely penetrating my skin, but I don’t believe any rise in temperature would remove the chill of fear that kicks my heart into a fresh flutter of renewed anxiety.
Praise for Void
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